The Ones Left Behind
by do-the-monkey
Summary: One-Shot about Bucky, his best gal, and Steve. (also posted on AO3)


The coldness of the brick wall she was pressed against should have chilled her to the bone, but that's not what was sending shivers down her spine. Instead, it was the kisses of James Buchanan Barnes. Beatrice would swear up and down that Bucky was the best kisser in the whole wide world, or at the very least, the best kisser in America. Not that she had kissed very many boys.

She giggled when his eager lips pressed against a particularly ticklish spot on her neck. His hand drifted from her back to hear rear, causing her to gasp in delight. She gasped again, this time from fear, when a car honked not too far from the alley they had ducked into.

"Bucky, stop. Someone will see us." Her hands pushed lightly against his chest, allowing a small bit of air to exist between them.

"Come up to my place. No one will see us there," he murmured against her lips.

And she wanted to, badly.

But even though they'd known each other for most of their lives and had been seeing each other socially off and on for most of the year, she knew she couldn't (or rather shouldn't) without some kind of promise from him.

She sighed and rested her head against his coat. "You know I can't, Bucky. What would my mother – or worse, your mother – think of me if I did?" Smiling a bit, she added "besides, we wouldn't be alone. What about Steve?"

He looked contemplative for a moment as he considered the situation, then smiled and kissed her on the nose. "I don't think our mothers will mind too much once we tell them we're getting married when I get back from the war." He nearly laughed at her happily startled expression. "And besides, Steve is in Hoboken. He's trying to –"

Bea never bothered finding out what Steve was trying to do. She was too busy kissing Bucky. When she stopped kissing him, he led her up to the small studio he shared with Steve. Bea noted that room definitely lacked a woman's touch as she draped her coat over a wooden chair as Bucky locked the door behind them. That was the last thought she spared the décor before she was back in Bucky's arms and the rest of their clothing joined the coat.

The next morning, it was hard to tell who was more embarrassed: Steve, who was too tired from his trip back from Hoboken to notice the tie on the door, or Bea, who was still wrapped in a cocoon of Bucky and blankets when the door slammed closed.

Bea didn't see Steve much after Bucky shipped out. They were both too embarrassed about the incident in the bachelor apartment to speak to one another without Bucky to act as a social buffer.

Both their mothers found out about the engagement shortly thereafter. It was a little difficult to hide morning sickness from a woman who had had five children of her own. Stern letters from both formidable women were sent to the font, along with a more soothing one from Bea and an anxious one from Steve. Bucky replied to each with the right amount of confidence and reassurance required. He'd always had a bit of a silver tongue, it followed that his letters would have a bit of shine as well.

When Steve finally managed to enlist, Bea half-listened to the letters from him that Bucky's mother would read aloud. It came as quite the shock when she received a letter from Bucky informing her that not only had he been captured and held prisoner, but Steve Rogers of all people had rescued him and his fellow POWs.

Every mail delivery and telegram seemed like a game of Russian roulette, you never knew if you'd be getting a message from a loved one or the War Office. She'd seen neighborhood mothers and wives collapse in heaps of sobs or faint into the arms of the delivery boys. But Bucky's letters always came with plenty of black streaks courtesy of army sensors. They were long and full of promises of the future and descriptions of all the places in Europe he'd take her once the Germans were done ruining everything. Bea was confident Bucky would come back.

When Bucky's mother came to her family's apartment with the War Office's telegram, Bea refused to believe that it could possibly be regarding Bucky. There must be half a dozen James Buchanan Barneses in New York. The War Office must have made a mistake. Then Steve's letter came. He'd never written to her before. The letters looked like his pen had been shaking.

 _Dear Beatrice,_

 _Buck's gone. I couldn't save him._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Steve_

Like countless women before her, Bea collapsed into sobs.

Later, Bea took the Barnes name and gave it to her daughter. No one said a word against her or censured her for it.

Not long after he was unfrozen, Steve looked into Bea. She'd had a stroke and died a few months into the new century. The obituary said that she was survived by her only child, Bonnie, and three grandchildren, James, Steven, and Sarah. She never remarried. Accompanying the obituary was a photo of Bucky and Bea that Steve had taken the summer before Bucky shipped out. They radiated youthful exuberance and confidence. Steve clipped the photo out of the printout and taped it to the inside of his small wardrobe. The photo would be the first of a handful. Sometimes, he liked being able to look at his friends as they were. Other times it made anonymous trips to gravestones and retirement home that much more difficult.


End file.
